


Your Touch (It Heals Me)

by fullfrontalnerdity



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 05:10:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2760842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullfrontalnerdity/pseuds/fullfrontalnerdity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's a friendly massage between roommates?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Touch (It Heals Me)

Giant slugs?  Seriously?  The Silas university handbook had definitely not warned against giant slugs.  Sure, there was that chapter on bio-luminescent caterpillars, and I’m pretty sure I read _something_ about overly aggressive snails, but giant slugs?  A 400-page book titled “Dangerous Creatures of Silas and How to Protect Yourself Against Them” probably should have mentioned the 10 foot tall slugs loitering out by the cafeteria.  There I’d been, minding my own business, when BAM!  Giant slugs.  Of course, the disgusting blobs of slime had caught me completely unawares and before I had even had a chance to reach for my bear spray one of them had gobbled up my Sociology homework.  A 10 page, handwritten essay.  Gone.    I had attempted to simply scold the slug into giving me back the paper, but alas, monstrous gelatinous molluscs apparently have no sense of guilt.  When that hadn’t worked, I’d thrown one of my shoes at them.  Unsurprisingly, the alpha slug had simply absorbed it and jiggled happily.  

 

It was because of this miscalculation that I had tripped trying to run from those damned shell-less monsters, and it was because of my silly shoeless-ness that I lay face down in bed, my back in spasm.  

 

 Perry had dropped by periodically throughout the day to check up on me, and Danny, bless her heart, had brought several packages of cookies to cheer me up.  While the cookies had certainly helped, my back was still preventing me from re-writing my essay and I was pretty sure my laundry detergent was not up to the task of removing the large purple slime stains from my jeans.  The one thing I _was_ thankful for was my roommate’s exceptionally convenient absence for the majority of the day.  Carmilla was practically nocturnal and, since the beginning of our administratively enforced living situation, I had not once seen the girl attend a single class; I’m actually pretty sure she didn’t even own a textbook.  She was constantly stealing my food, seemed to gain immeasurable pleasure from walking away from messes she had made, and was almost incapable of cleaning her hair out of the shower drain.  

 

So, despite my aching back, I had been glad to have the room to myself for once.  Unfortunately, I knew my blissful solitude could not last forever.  

 

\--

 

I was still sprawled face-down in bed when Carmilla came back to our room.  I was positive that she had not been to class, so what exactly she had been up to was as good as anyones guess (if I had to put money on it, I’d say lurking mysteriously around campus, stealing souls of the innocent, or sleeping off a hangover in the library’s sub-basement).  

 

“What’s wrong with you, Cupcake?” Carmilla asked, slumping down onto her bed with a tired sigh.  

 

Carmilla was in a near constant state of exhaustion.  The only time she didn’t look tired was when she was sleeping, and when she _was_ sleeping she looked like she was fighting off an angry hoard of buffalo.  If I didn’t know with absolute certainty that she did absolutely nothing during the day, I would have thought she’d been out running a one-legged marathon while juggling.  Blindfolded.    

 

“Slugs.” I answered.  

 

Only at Silas could slugs be a definitive response to what was ailing you. 

 

“Those big bastards by the cafeteria?  One of the yellow ones is super racist.” she said, picking distractedly at her nails and wiping what appeared to be pizza sauce off of her shirt.  It was only then that I noticed Carmilla was in fact in one of _my_ t-shirts, which she had most definitely not asked me for permission to wear.  

 

“Ya, well the purple one isn’t too keen on Sociology papers and short girls minding their own business either.  It chased me all the way down to the greenhouse.  I had to call Laf so they could lure it away with chicken wings and old pieces of bread.”

 

“It probably just thought you were cute,” Carmilla said, mockingly winking at me from across the room, “wanted to come home and meet the family.”

 

“Oh, my dad would love that.  Dad,” I said, slowly hoisting myself up and gesturing beside me, “this is my boyfriend.  I’m sorry for the slimy inedible jello he left in the living room but, apart from eating my homework, he treats me really well!” 

 

Carmilla smiled and shrugged, waving her hand as if to say _That’s life at Silas for you_.  I’m pretty sure this had been the first conversation I’d had with her where we hadn’t wound up screaming at one another.  It was actually kind of nice to see her smile for once, as she usually seemed to save that particular form of expression as an accent piece following a particularly sarcastic remark.   

 

I attempted to lie back down again but a particularly vicious bolt of pain shot through my back.  It felt like someone had jammed a hot poker into my spine and was slowly and sadistically twisting the burning metal deeper and deeper into my flesh. Tears welled in my eyes and I attempted to hold still as a means of lessening my pain.  I felt dizzy and nauseous and the back of my neck was covered in a thin layer of sweat.  After a few short moments, the sharpness eased and I was left with a dull tingling sensation.  Carmilla watched me attentively from her side of the room .

 

“That slug really did a number on you, eh?” she asked, her face knotted in what appeared to be genuine concern. 

 

“I’m fine.  I probably just need to sleep it off” I said, gently rubbing the muscles of my lower back.  

 

Carmilla seemed to be lost in thought for a moment.  Suddenly, her eyes narrowed.

 

“I can help.”  

 

At first, I thought I’d imagined the offer; Carmilla was not one to go out of her way to help others in need.  In fact, on numerous occasions, I’d seen her actively remove herself from a situation in order to make life more difficult for someone else. She was not what I would call “generous” in nature and was usually either completely indifferent to others and their feelings or purposefully cruel and distant. In addition to her sudden uncharacteristic generosity, there had also been something strangely seductive about her proposition.  In fact, I had to convince myself that she had _not_ suggestively raised her perfectly manicured eyebrows at me.  I was, naturally, skeptical of her intentions.  For all I knew, she was playing some elaborate prank on me and had devised a cunning scheme, with the help of the slugs, to incapacitate me.  I decided to temporarily give her the benefit of the doubt, all while internally preparing myself for a much darker alternative.

 

“How, exactly, would you help?” I asked, hoping to trick her into possibly revealing part of her potentially nefarious plan.  “Last I checked, you weren’t a licensed chiropractor.”

 

“That’s true,” she said, an almost invisible smirk playing at the corner of her mouth, “but I have been told I’m exceptionally skilled with my hands”.  

 

This time, her wink was far less condescending.  

 

The whole thing was remarkably unsettling.  I’d spent the majority of the last month practically loathing Carmilla.  She was messy, rude, and apathetic; she was passive-aggressive, lazy and overly sarcastic; and frankly, up until then, I had found her pretty much infuriating.  So you can imagine that it came as a great shock to suddenly realize that she was also unquestionably sexy.  I’d spent so much time focused on how inconsiderate of a roommate she’d been, that I’d failed to notice the inviting slope of her lips, or the sensual curve of her hips.  She was arousing and provocative and there was something deeply primal, almost animal, about her.   

 

I wasn’t entirely sure what to say.  

 

“I uh, I mean…you, you don’t have to.” I said finally, giving her the chance to bow out.  

 

“Oh please, and miss out on the opportunity of having you owe me one?  I don’t think so, Cutie.  Plus, what’s a friendly massage between roommates?”

 

She stood from her bed and sauntered over to me.  Her eyes were somehow predatory and I suddenly felt as if I were voluntarily seasoning myself and pre-heating the oven at Hannibal Lecter’s dinner party.  Her tiny black shorts clung tightly to her body, and I could see a sliver of hip-bone poking out through the gap in her shirt.   

 

“Lie down.”  She told me, quietly sitting on the side of my bed.  

 

Nervously, I attempted to lower myself back down.  It wasn’t until my back spasmed painfully that I even remembered why she had offered to help me in the first place.  

 

“Go slow.” She said, cupping my back and shoulders.  

 

She took great care in laying me onto my stomach.  Her movements were deliberate, attentive and surprisingly soft.  Her hands were much colder than I had expected, and I could feel the coolness of her skin through my t-shirt.  Once I was finally down, she raised herself onto her knees and swung one of her legs over me.  With her legs straddled on either side, she hovered, millimetres above me, careful not to cause me any pain.     

 

“Tell me where it hurts.” She said, delicately placing her hands onto my back.

 

She started at the base of my skull.  Using the pads of her thumbs, she made small, gentle circles into the flesh of my neck.  She rolled them into my muscles, her pressure light enough so as to cause me no pain, but firm enough to relieve me of any tension.  Her breath was calm and I could feel it in the slow rise and fall of her hips.  When I made no sounds of displeasure, she leisurely worked her fingers lower.  Using her palms, she firmly slid her hands down the sides of my spine. Her hands were much warmer than before, and I wished that I had had the foresight to take off my shirt.  With a slow, methodical patience, she rubbed circles into me.  Alternating between strong, deep rolls of her palms, and gentle grazes of her fingertips, she worked the knots from my muscles.  

 

 

\--

 

“Is that okay?” she asked me, her hands gripping at my waist as her thumbs worked the muscles of my inner back.    

 

I muttered a soft _mhm_ and nodded, closing my eyes to better enjoy the feel of her hands against me.  I didn’t wanted her to stop touching me.  I felt high off of her.    Apart from having drunkenly grinded against Danny at an Alchemy Club party a couple weeks earlier, I’d never been this close to another person before (being homeschooled by a strict, over-bearing single father had certainly not been conducive to a life of promiscuity).  

 

“It feels amazing.” I said around a sigh.  

  

With that knowledge, her legs gripped me tighter and she lowered herself slightly, placing some of her weight on top of me.  When I felt the apex of her thighs connect with the back of my leg, I let out a stuttered, shaky breath.  I could feel the heat from her body on my skin as she pressed harder into the muscles of my lower back.  Using a constant, firm pressure, she slid them lower still, her thumbs running down my spine as her splayed out fingertips grasped tightly at my hipbones.   I could feel my quickening pulse in my ears and I bit down on my lip so as not to make any “untoward” sounds.  Once she had reached the bottom, she rolled her palms across the belt-line of my shorts and experimentally slid one of her fingers underneath the hem of my t-shirt.  For several seconds, she merely played with the material there, rolling the black cotton between her thumb and index.  Finally, she lifted it, and slipped the rest of her hands underneath.  In one fluid motion, she ran her hands up my bare back.  My skin was on fire and her hands were unbearably soft.  

 

Using one of her softest touches so far, she dragged her fingertips back down my sides.   One of her fingers grazed the side of my bra and I clenched my legs together tightly.  I could feel her shifting slightly on top of me and when my thigh muscle flexed involuntarily, she let out an tiny squeak, her hips grinding down into me.  Suddenly, her hands froze and she sat motionless.  

 

“Im sorry.” She said quickly, her breath somewhat shaky.  It was only then that I realized she too was enjoying the massage. I’d assumed that the tiny shifting of her hips had simply been an attempt to get more comfortable.   

 

Whatever it was we were doing, I didn’t want it to stop.  The line had already been crossed.  I was suddenly desperate for more of her and there was an undeniable wetness in my underwear that I’d only ever gotten from my own fingers before.  I knew that she would not continue without my consent, so rather than verbalize my pleasure, I more purposefully flexed my thigh muscles and raised my hips.  I must have surprised her, because she gripped tightly at my waist and audibly inhaled, her breath seemingly caught in her throat.  I tightened the muscle anew and her hips ground down once again.  I wanted her to touch more of me, so I gently took her hands and slid them up my sides, stopping suggestively at the side of my chest.  It didn’t take long for her to guess my intentions.  Slowly, she slid her hands underneath me, the palms of her hands resting delicately on my ribs, just below the my swell of my breasts.  She leaned forward and I could feel the material of her loose fitting t shirt hanging on my skin.

 

“Can I?” she asked, her lips ghosting over my ear.  

 

“Please.” I begged.

 

With a calm steadiness, she ran her hands up and palmed my breasts.  She dug her fingers into flesh above the cup of my bra.  My hips canted upwards and I could feel her repositioning herself on top of me.  She separated my legs with one of her knees and brought her thigh down between them.  Straddling only one of my legs, she drove her leg up into me.  She squeezed at my chest once more before she removed her hands. 

 

“Don’t stop.” I whined.

 

“I won’t” she promised.  

 

Expertly, she unclasped my bra and helped me from the straps.  She pulled it out from under me and I was glad to be lying on my stomach, because I was suddenly overcome with shyness.  She pushed my tank top up as far as it would go and lay herself on top of me, her thigh pressing firmly into my crotch.    She clutched at my sides for a moment, before she brought them around once more, her hands now against my bare skin.  With her fingers splayed, she grasped at me, squeezing my nipples between her ring and middle fingers.   When her lips touched the back of my neck, I clutched desperately at the covers and bit down on the yellow pillow beneath my head.  She placed tiny kisses onto my neck, her lips barely making contact.  They were so much softer than I had thought possible and unconsciously I grabbed at the back of her head and pressed her harder into me, stretching my neck to give her more of my skin to kiss.  I fisted my fingers tightly into her hair and soon her kisses became more desperate, her hands still assertively groping at my breasts.    She had begun grinding herself  against me and with every upward thrust of her hips, she pushed her thigh into me.  I needed more, so using my free hand, I ran it down my body and touched myself through the my material of my shorts. When she realized what I had done, she moaned and dragged her teeth down the stretched out muscles of my neck.  Although I’d touched myself plenty of times before, I suddenly felt nervous; I’d never done it with an audience.  I was desperate though, and despite my inexperience, Carmilla somehow managed to make me feel at ease.  I could tell that she was far more seasoned than I was, but for some strange reason I implicitly trusted her. 

 

Carmilla’s touch had become almost frantic.  Her teeth bit down harder onto my neck and when I moaned out a small grunt of pain she soothed the skin with her tongue.  I rubbed myself through the the fabric and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I was cumming.  I wanted to prolong my release as long as possible, but it was difficult with Carmilla expertly rolling my nipples between her fingers and her lips sucking insistently against my throat.  I was sure my skin would be covered in dark bruises when she was finished.  

 

“Tell me how it feels.” She said, her breathing erratic and quick.

 

“Really good.” I whispered, my fingers rubbing firmly at my clit.  I could feel my wetness through my shorts and told her so. 

 

She inhaled sharply at the sound of my words and muttered a _fuck_ into my neck.  I could feel my climax quickly approaching.

 

“I’m close.” I moaned, my back arching and my hips bowing upwards.

 

  Faster than I thought possible, she removed on of her hands from my chest and ran it down my body, cupping my hand.  Her hand was pressed firmly against my own and a wave of electricity shot through my body.  She pressed my hands upwards with a firm stroke of her wrist.  I wanted more of her, so I moved my hand to the side and suddenly it was her fingers against me, pressing deeply into me.  She wiggled her fingers and I unconsciously clenched my thighs together, trapping our hands between them.  She forcefully spread them again with her knee and continued, her hands moving in  tortuous circles.  I was desperate to feel her against my skin.

 

“Go under.” I begged, lewdly grinding myself against her hand.

 

She quickly slipped her hands into my shorts but hesitated, her fingertips slightly under the waistband of my underwear.  I could tell she was uncertain if I had meant all the way, so I grabbed her hand and confidently slid them underneath.  

 

The moment her fingers touched me, I was cumming.  I screamed out and grabbed at the covers tightly, my knuckles white.  She ran herself through me as I came, her fingers sliding through my wetness.  My body shook uncontrollably and my vision blurred, my thighs twitching and quivering with pleasure.  I could feel myself pulsing against her hand, her fingers still making tight circles against my now overly sensitive clit.  

 

When I finally came down, she placed a soft gentle kiss onto my neck and sat up, removing her hand from my underwear.

 

“How’s your back?” she asked me.  I somehow knew she was smirking down at me.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't look at me lol. This is my first attempt at writing something vaguely "smutty", so I apologize if it sucks. Also, I'm sorry for any typos, I wrote this in like an hour. Come talk to me on tumblr if you'd like, my name's the same :)


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